


Darkness Has Begun

by ToTheMax



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Heavy Angst, revenge plotting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToTheMax/pseuds/ToTheMax
Summary: After being defeated once again, Remus takes to the confines of his room to plot the perfect revenge against the Sides who wronged him. On the top of his list is his brother, and all of Remus' aggression has been pent up for far too long.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	Darkness Has Begun

**Author's Note:**

> WHOO, okay, this one is quite a doozy! Fair warning, there is
> 
> \- intrusibe/disturbing imagery  
> \- remus-typical behavior on the violent side  
> \- the tags say this but there is the fair share of graphic depictions of violence  
> \- a lot of arguing all around 
> 
> I hope yall enjoy if you tread ahead!

His eye wouldn't stop twitching.

He felt a sharp sting in his palm, and blood pooling under his fingernails.

His jaw was about to shatter from the pressure the clenched it.

Once again, he was shut in the confines of his room– no, his  _ cell _ . He might as well have a heavy cuff around his ankle; it's not like he was allowed to leave anyway.

No... they'd much rather bask in his  _ brother's _ radiance.

It caused his stomach to writhe like a worm severed by a bird's beak. It caused his body to tremble like a building about to collapse.

It lit his blood alight with rage akin to a blazing inferno engulfing a home and everyone inside.

He said nothing as he stared out of the barred window in his room. He could shape his corner of the mindscape however he pleased, so he settled on looking out into a dark forest, a dim red moon ever-so-slightly lighting the silhouettes of what definitely weren't leaves hanging from the tree branches by thick ropes. Flickering his eyes down to the forest floor, he saw a creek running red as it softly babbled and frothed. In the distance, there was a horrid shriek crackling through the night, like a feedback loop filtered through an old radio. What followed was an off-key cacophany of notes that made his ears almost hurt with their sharp edges. A pungent smell wafted through the air, likely due to the not-leaves hanging from the trees– they had been hanging there dripping for quite some time.

It was perfect. 

This was his world. This little sliver of the mindscape he was granted, the part of the mind where nobody could tell him what to get rid of, what to not say. It was a place where he could simply… be.

It was lovely. On another night, he would be smiling as his discordant harmony. But, tonight was not another night. Tonight was tonight.

And tonight, he was fuming. Fuming at the very memory of this afternoon's events.

_ "For the last time, no! There is nothing okay with anything you are bringing up!" _

It killed him to see the look of horror on Thomas' face.  _ Horror. _

_ "If you would just listen to—" _

_ "Give it up, Remus. Just… get out of here, man!" _

Virgil was just as fed up as everyone else. He never did tolerate Remus for very long.

_ "Remus, it's clear your contributions are doing nothing to further our topic of conversation– much like every single time you've made an appearance during our discussions." _

Logan flips through his  _ moronic  _ vocabulary cards.

_ "It would be best if you were to… yeet yourself out of the conversation." _

_ "That was nice, Logan." _

That was when his eye started twitching.

_ "And get out of Roman's spot!" _

_ " _ Roman's  _ spot? Excuse me, but who was here first? Finders Keepers!" _

_ "You're not supposed to take things that don't belong to you!" _

Even dear old Dad wanted nothing more than to see him leave.

_ "Look dude, I woulda' thought by now you'd realize that we don't want you here. If you're gonna be disgusting, why don't you go somewhere where we won't have to listen to you?" _

And that's when the rage ignited inside of him, staring into Virgil's glare. That's how he wound up confined in this cell of a room for the rest of the day. 

His lovely room, with the beautiful moon and the enchanting forest and the wonderful creek.

It was perfect. Why couldn't they see that? 

He turned away from the window, a growl in the back of his throat.

"Vile, disgusting, not contributing anything… is that really how they see me?" He asked no one. It was a habit of his to speak to thin air– it was the only thing willing to listen to him.

Was he so wrong to wish that they listened? Was he selfish for wanting a moment to speak without being looked at with the emotion a hostage gives a kidnapper? Was it so vile to ask that they stop asking about Roman every time he came forward?

He summoned his morningstar, his eyes roaming among the several pieces of furniture in his cell.  _ So many practice dummies. _

"Why  _ should  _ Roman be the favored twin?" He mumbled, his voice halfway failing from disuse as he twirled his weapon around his arm, training his focus on a dresser, full of cobwebs and moldy books. "Why  _ shouldn't  _ they adore me? Why is it  _ him _ !?"

He swung, and his weapon connected with a deafening crash. It was hardly enough to satiate him. He didn't so much as hold his breath when dust clouded in front of his face, in fact he took a deep breath and let the mold fill his lungs.

"Why was I filed away!?" Another swing. "Why am I left to rot and wait for execution!?" Another swing, but this one missed and connected with the wall instead, bouncing harmlessly off the thick metal-plated concrete.

He staggered a couple steps, then screamed and swung his weapon to the left, colliding with the desk beside the window. The wood splintered and shattered, knick-knacks falling and cracking across the floor.

Glass glinted in the red moonlight and caught his eye. With a saddened gruff, he threw his morningstar down to wedge into the stone brick under his feet. Then, he knelt down and picked up the broken photo frame.

_ "What makes you think I want this?"  _

_ "Well, we may have our arguments, but… I think you could do with a reminder every now and again that I really do love you." _

_ "You're just saying that. I don't want your fake pity, Roman!" _

_ "Sorry, this gift has a no-backsies rule." _

It hurt to see him smile the way he did. Such a fake expression, gilded with happiness, but Remus  _ saw  _ the strain at the ends of his mouth, and the urgent shifting from foot-to-foot, and the way his nose wrinkled with the smell from outside.

_ "How do I know you're being genuine about this? You're one hell of an actor, brother of mine." _

_ "Remus, just… take it, okay? You're right, I  _ am  _ your brother, and that means I love you, even if you can be… annoying." _

Remus had snarled then, carelessly tossing the photograph onto his desk.

_ "Well, no need to sugarcoat it…." _

_ "Look, we obviously have our issues, we both know this. But… we're stuck with each other, alright? We shouldn't constantly butt heads like we've been doing. Especially when it does nothing to help Thomas." _

_ "Fine, whatever… you obviously want to leave, so will you go away if I accept your gift?" _

_ "I mean it, Remus. I love you." _

There was nothing Remus saw that told him that was a lie. 

He didn't know why he felt tears pricking his eyes. The longer he gazed at the photograph, the more he remembered.

The photograph was of himself and Roman, arms around each other, caught in the middle of a laugh. It was when Thomas– and by extension themselves as Sides– was much younger. The photo wasn't taken too long after… _the_ _split_. 

It was after they split, but before they decided Roman was the one they loved.

Remus snarled. His fingers tightening around the frame cracked the glass more. His thumb closed around Roman's young, happy face.

"Why don't they see it," he hissed to himself, wondering aloud. "They think Roman is  _ so much better  _ than I am… everything he shows them is a lie!" 

He paced around the room then, morningstar in one hand and photo in the other. "All those gilded compliments, all those shining smiles… all he cares about is himself! Even a blind man could see it… even a  _ dead man could–!" _

With a flash of pain, the photo frame shattered, bits of glass wedging into his palm as he clenched his fist. He didn't even flinch, watching with a fascination as trails of black crimson streaked down his palm. His fingers trembled, and the broken parts of the frame clattered to the ground. He brought his other hand up to catch the photo before it fell, abandoning his morningstar in the process.

Roman's smiling face was now punctured with bloody glass, Remus was left untouched, until he dragged his thumb across the photo to smear it with a bloody fingerprint. 

"Even a dead man could see how vile you are, dear brother," Remus hissed, letting the photo flutter to the ground. "I'm the Holy-fucking-Lord compared to you. They'll see… I'll show them."

With a flick of his arm, he willed away the glass in his hand and stooped down to pick up his morningstar with a pulsing, stinging, bleeding hand. He took a moment to breathe heavily, staring out of his window.

He imagined how it would feel being in the spotlight for once, being  _ praised  _ the way Roman is.

_ No… that's far too unrealistic. They'd rather choke on vomit than smile at you. As long as Roman is there to keep them starry-eyed and spell-bound… _

"So if we remove Roman from the equation…"

That was much more feasible. He cast his eyes out his window, feeling a twitch of his lips as they peeled back into a thin smile.

He imagined the way Roman's eyes would widen, the way his mouth would open, but nothing would come out. Because Remus would have already wrapped his hands around his brother's neck, gripping his throat and squeezing. His nails would dig into his throat, threatening to rip his windpipe right out. Roman would be thrashing, choking,  _ pleading _ .

_ "It's too late to beg for mercy,"  _ Remus would hiss,  _ "you should have begged when you had the breath." _

Roman's thrashing would get weaker, and Remus would squeeze harder, enjoying every moment of the life draining from his eyes. He would bask in the blood soaked form of his dead brother, drinking in the sensation of revenge.

Maybe it didn't have to be just an imaginary fantasy. Roman was just a flight of stairs away. All it would take was a couple steps…

Remus blinked as there came a polite rapping on his door. He didn't realize how widely he was grinning. "Come in!" He called cheerily, bouncing on his toes. 

The door swung open, and Remus's eyes glimmered at the sight of Janus in his doorway. "Why, what a surprise!" He crowed. "Sorry for the mess, I don't usually get company!" He looked among his room proudly, then back to his temporary guest. "What does the snake want with me this time?"

Janus' unimpressed scowl didn't falter beyond a cocked eyebrow. "I want you to keep it down. All your screaming and breaking things is waking everybody up."

Remus fake-pouted. "Oh, my  _ deepest  _ and  _ sincerest  _ apologies, dear Janus. I just got a little silly is all." He was suddenly  _ very  _ aware of the blood dripping through his fingers.

Janus' face softened, just a smallest bit. "Are you alright? Is something wrong?"

"Nope!" Remus bounced, forcing down a biting retort.  _ His concern is just as fake as the rest of them,  _ he thought. "In fact, I was just about to set things straight!"

Janus could only stumble back as Remus shoved him out of the way. "Wh- set things straight?" He echoed, "what do you mean?"

Remus stopped in the middle of the Dark Sides' common room, twirling his weapon among both his hands as he felt a laugh bubbling up inside him. "I mean, I recognize mistakes made in the past. It's only right I try to rectify them. Isn't that what a Good Side does?"

Janus' face quickly hardened, a shadow of panic behind his scales. "Remus, don't try lying to me. What exactly are you planning?"

"I'm not  _ lying _ ." Remus cocked his head to the side, finally giggling at the sharp stare from the other Side. "Where did I say they were  _ my  _ mistakes?"

Janus and Remus took a moment to stare each other down, a thick silence draped between the two.

"Remus," Janus finally whispered, a sense of betrayal in his tone. "Whatever you're planning on doing, stop it."

Remus snuffed, his grin only widening– if that were even possible. "No, Janus. I'm done being told to stop. I've had it with this sort of treatment."

"Remus, please—"

Remus's smile dropped as he growled. "I've already made up my mind. If you know what's best for you, you're going to stay down here and let me do this."

Janus, frozen, asked. "What are you going to do?"

Remus tilted his head, almost sweetly. "I don't want to spoil the fun. You just wait here and find out."

With that, he started at a brisk pace up the stairs, beaming with radiant sunshine. He paused halfway up, however, when he heard whispers.

_ "... stay here, okay? I promise…" _

It was Virgil. As usual, his voice was low and husky, but it held an all-too-familiar tone of urgency that made Remus realize the element of surprise wasn't an option.  _ That's fine,  _ he told himself.  _ I need a warm-up before seeing Roman, anyway. _

Calmly, he walked up the next few steps, coming closer and closer to the doorway at the top of the stairs that lead to the Light Sides' common room. Virgil's whispering became more frantic.

_ "Just stay here, Patton! Please! I can deal with him, just make sure you stay out of sight." _

Remus stomped his foot, louder than necessary, feeling a warm wave of panic on the other side of the wall. He reached the final stair, pausing while holding his breath. 

Remus loved a game of cat-and-mouse, where the mouse thinks he's gotten away. But the cat was ready, claws unsheathed and mouth open.

Now, he stepped up the final stair, facing the Light Sides' common room. There was a bright, almost irritating light coming from the common room's tv, which was playing white static. It hummed softly as he looked around with a soft smile. He didn't notice anyone immediately; Patton must have hid too well, and Virgil was always good at moving silently.

Remus would give Virgil credit, for he didn't notice the other's presence until he let out a low hiss. It was obviously meant as an intimidation tactic, but all it did was give away his position.

When Virgil lunged, time seemed to slow. Remus snapped his head to the left, locking eyes with the Side. Virgil's face was contorted into a raging snarl, his arms outstretched and eyeshadow smudged and black, nearly covering his cheeks.

"There you are!"

Remus snapped his arm out in a blink, catching Virgil by the neck. His lithe body swung in the air, reminiscent of a cat catching a high ledge. Remus smirked toughly, watching his expression immediately change to terror. Fingers clawed at his wrist, and he started to choke.

"Don't worry," Remus whispered, his eye twitching with enjoyment as Virgil grit his teeth with the grip tightening around his neck. "I'm not here for you, or Dear Ol' Dad." He tilted his head, bringing Virgil close to his face. "You know what I want."

Virgil strained out a snarl, thrashing his feet uselessly against Remus' stomach. "You won't..." he managed, "Logan's already... warned Roman—"

"What's a Dark Side doing up here?" Remus interrupted, pacing a couple steps into the common room, not tearing his eyes away from Virgil's. "Don't you know? The  _ evil _ sides are supposed to be downstairs, where Thomas doesn't have to look at them!"

Virgil kicked out, to no avail. He lashed an arm out, digging his nails into Remus' face, but Remus just snapped and latched his teeth onto Virgil's digits. "Let go!" Virgil pleaded, trying to tug his hand out of Remus' mouth. "R-Remus, let me g—"

"Very well." Remus freed Virgil's hand, a line of drool streaking down the corner of his mouth. "Alright, I'll let go. No need to ask me twice!"

He staggered back until his elbow bumped against the stairway's doorframe. "Why don't you go back where you belong?" He held Virgil over the stairs, leaning his head to look past him at Janus, waiting at the bottom. 

_ "As if Thomas wants you up here anyway." _

Virgil had no time to plead before he was violently thrown from Remus' clutches.

Remus watched calmly as Virgil crashed down the stairs, screaming out with every hit on the way down, until he lay motionless at the bottom. Janus knelt over him, muttering worriedly.

"Now that that's out of the way…" Remus turned sharply, locking eyes with Patton, who was peeking over the common room's couch. "Who's next?" He waited for Patton to make a move, but the Side did nothing except choke back sobs of horror. "Roman it is, then." 

He stalked through the sharply-lit room, eyes on the door with a swirling golden filigree decorating the white wood, and an ornate silver sign spelling out, 'ROMAN.' 

He stood, waiting at the door for… nothing, really. Why was he hesitating now? 

Roman's smiling face flashed in his mind as his hand settled on the cold doorknob. He could almost hear his brother's infectious giggle.

In his mind, he saw Roman's cheery smile, felt his arms thrown around his neck in a hug. His strong arms giving the hug a warm, reaffirming squeeze.

His grip tightened on the knob.

"You don't have to do this," Patton said, his voice echoing behind him. "He loves you, Remus."

Remus turned slightly, just enough to see Patton cowering behind him. There was no hint of a smile on his face. He just snuffed at the Side. "I thought lying was Janus' job?"

With that, he swung Roman's door open, making a grand show of stomping in with his morningstar in hand.

He taped a smile on his face as Roman's sword laid itself at his collarbone.

"Not another step, you vile, bespawling klazomaniac!"

Remus giggled, forcing the cheery sound out of his throat. "Breaking out insults from the dark ages? I must  _ really _ be in trouble!" On Roman's desk shone a monitor, currently broadcasting some sort of dream Thomas was having. "It looks like you're busy. I hope you don't mind me barging in!"

Roman's righteous glare darkened, his grip tightening on the handle of his sword. "What do you want?" He demanded. His frame was backlit by the glow of his lamp, lighting up his room in an orange warmth, but there was a shine in his eyes that glimmered with what Remus could place as disappointment.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Virgil said Logan already told you. Speaking of, where is our pedantic friend?"

Roman lurched his arm forward, snagging Remus by the collar and yanking him into his room. "You're not here for idle pratter, Remus. Stop stalling!" He willed the door to slam shut with a wave of his hand.

Remus paused, looking among Roman's pristinely white room. Not a single knick-knack was out of place, his bed was neatly made, and outside his window shone a pale moonlit grassy field twinkling with fireflies. There was a gentle smell of vanilla and cotton candy in the air, and there were nighttime insects chirping gently outside the window. 

It was so… Boring. So pristinely disgusting, so  _ gilded _ . Just like everything else about him. 

Remus stared his brother in the eye and spoke with a low voice. "You know why I'm here; I'm here to claim what should have been mine  _ long  _ ago."

Without another second of hesitation, he swung his weapon out, but Roman evaded the attack and struck back with his sword. The shrill clanging of metal-on-metal was music to Remus' ears.

"What exactly should have been yours!?" Roman demanded, blocking another attack and jumping back as Remus lunged for him.

Remus roared, swinging his morningstar and letting it collide with Roman's dresser as the Side dodged, sending glass sculptures shattering to the ground. "Don't play fucking stupid!" He accused, "you know  _ exactly— _ " Remus swung his weapon again, finally snagging Roman in the leg— "what you took from me!"

Remus swung out once more, and felt a sense of joy as Roman cried out, a shock of pain erupting from his stomach where he'd been hit. Remus screamed over him. "All that praise, all those compliments… all the love you  _ gorged  _ yourself on!" He brought his now somewhat bloodied weapon down, but Roman rolled out of the way just in time. "It was supposed to be MINE!"

Roman scrambled back to his feet, panickedly raising his sword to block another strike from Remus. His other arm was occupied with applying pressure to his new stomach wound. "Remus, listen to me—"

Remus roared again, slamming his morningstar against the broken remains of Roman's dresser, the noise of such causing Roman to startle so much he lost his balance once more. "No, it's MY turn to speak! You've spoken over me, and forced me out, and have been  _ killing me  _ for the past  _ twenty years! _ " He raised his weapon again, heaving as he held it over his head. "It's time that you… and  _ them….  _ and Thomas…. listen to ME!"

He plunged the ball of spikes down, grinning in a sick satisfactory manner as Roman screamed once again. As if he couldn't help himself, he twisted the weapon deeper into the shallow wounds he created. He felt giddiness bubbling up inside him, making him bounce on his toes as he raised his weapon, admiring the thin coat of blood streaking along its metal surface.

Roman was breathing heavily, pained whines lacing his breath and tears streaming from the sides of his eyes. He flinched as Remus brought his foot down on his chest, knocking the breath out of his lungs. Each agonizing cough after that sent splatters of blood up his throat.

Remus swung his foot again, kicking Roman in the side and making his roll over to the other side. He let his giggles overtake him as he watched Roman try crawling away. "What's wrong, Roman?" He crowed, kneeling down and grabbing him by the ankle. "I thought you were the hero! You're the  _ good guy, _ you're supposed to save the day from the evil good-for-nothings like me!"

Remus yanked hard, throwing Roman towards him. He grabbed his brother by the collar of his bloodied vest, lifting him like a day-old kitten. He felt an immense wave of satisfaction upon seeing Roman's defeated, tearful expression. 

"You know, Roman," Remus said, his voice suddenly low and serious. "Everyone has imagined us as two sides of the same coin. Light and Dark, Good and Evil… but we both know that's total horse-shit, don't we?"

Roman didn't respond.

Remus wandered a couple steps before gently laying Roman on his bed, eyes glimmering playfully as he saw the snow white sheets stain red. "You're just like me," he went on, watching Roman grasp feebly at his wound. "We are twins, after all. If I'm so vile, and disgusting, and evil, then so are you."

Roman coughed, breathing in and trying to say something, but Remus raised his weapon to his shoulder as a warning taken to be quiet.

"That wasn't an accusation," Remus said matter-of-factly. "It was a statement of truth. You're just as evil as I am, dear brother." He reached forward and grabbed Roman's sash, yanking him to a sitting position and using his other hand to clasp too-tightly onto his shoulder. "You're just the coward that tries to hide it."

Roman still didn't say a word, staring into Remus' crazed eyes inches away from his face. His own face was cross with agony, but Remus saw the spark of anger in his tight frown.

"You act like you're all high-and-mighty since I'm stuck in that fucking cellar downstairs," Remus hissed, backing away just the smallest bit to bend over and pick up his morningstar. "You think that if you just plaster your walls with a fresh coat of paint and forget about everything else, you'll just turn into a better Side. You think that, if you just forget about me, I'll go away?"

Roman's face twitched, a strained huff squeezing past his grit teeth.

"You can't get rid of me," Remus growled. "As much as you want me gone, I'm not going anywhere. And if this is what it takes to prove that, then so be it."

Remus suddenly flinched as Roman spit at him, a warm blot of crimson splattering onto his face. 

"Fuck you, Remus," Roman hissed, blood streaking down the corners of his mouth. His fingers tightened on his grave injury, but he didn't say anything else; he waited impatiently for Remus to respond.

Remus froze for a moment, letting the blood trickle down his cheek before snapping his eyes to Roman. Then, the side of his mouth turned up. "Fuck you," he repeated, raising one hand to his face. "Fuck you…" he wiped the blood and spit from his cheek, looking at his stained hand for a moment. "They always say that. There's always a 'fuck you' when they know they're caught."

Remus giggled, then licked the blood off his hand. He locked eyes with Roman again. "Why do they always say that?" 

Without warning, Roman felt a black spark of pain blossom from his chest, where Remus had planted his weapon. Remus spoke over his breathless scream.

"Do you think I care?" He asked, an edge of genuine curiosity in his tone. "You think I don't know you hate me? I think twenty years of making me rot downstairs is proof enough that a 'fuck you' is tangible."

Roman didn't have a comeback– he couldn't speak if he wanted to.

Remus knew this, knew that he had won. "I'll tell you what, O Hero." He flicked his hand, dispelling his morningstar and instead bringing forth a set of manacles into existence. "I came up here to kill you. You have no idea how long I've wanted to squeeze the life out of your fucking neck." He took Roman's limp wrist, locking it into one of the cuffs with a satisfying  _ click _ . "But, I think  _ this  _ is going to be much more fun."

Within seconds, Roman's wrists were bound by heavy chains, which Remus yanked forward off his bed, forcing him into a painful standing position. Remus looked around his room, focused on a bookshelf full of books of all sorts, decorated with Playbills, dry quills, and spare sheets of paper.

"There's no need for  _ this  _ shit in  _ my  _ kingdom."

Remus summoned his morningstar with his free hand, swinging back and swiftly knocking the furniture down. The painted oak wood snapped, frail as a dried twig. Papers shuffled and went flying, a flock of birds before they settled among the wreckage. He looked at the wall where the bookshelf once stood, and summoned a mounting area to hang Roman's chains.

"That's right, Roman." Remus stared at his defeated brother hanging off the wall like a prisoner, gleefully tilting his head. "This is  _ my  _ kingdom. You can never get rid of me, you can only let me bide my time."

Roman finally coughed out a question. "Why… go through all this trouble?"

Remus turned to face the monitor broadcasting Thomas' dream– he was a member of an adventuring party, with a couple of his friends, dancing along their merry way, sun shining and smiles wide. 

"Because," he answered simply, "this is the only way anyone will listen."

He huffed, what was meant to be a laugh. "Isn't that funny?" He turned his head slightly, but kept his eyes on the monitor. "I have to throw a fucking tantrum and beat you within an inch of your life just to get you all to listen to me. Isn't… isn't that hilarious? I think it's pretty funny."

Remus leaned towards the monitor, hands grazing the edges. In a flash, the screen tinted a sick, pale green. The monitor ticked and buzzed, and he saw that the green tinted was starting to spread along the desk.

He had control now. He could do whatever he wanted. He stared at the happy dream, feeling a small, wondrous smile.  _ "Say, Thomas,"  _ he whispered, eyes glimmering with amusement as Thomas in his dream looked around, confused and alert.  _ "Do you ever think about how it would feel to have blood on your hands?" _

He watched as his contribution unfolded. Thomas took out his mighty sword, turning to one of his party members. Roman weakly struggled behind him, but there was nothing he could do but watch as Thomas fulfilled Remus' request. Screaming erupted from the monitor, sweet music to his ears. 

He turned back to Roman with a confident, calm smile. "Tomorrow dawns in darkness, dear brother," he said, winding his hands behind his back. "You've strangled me for far too long. You see just how it feels to choke on your own medicine."

As Remus laid down in Roman's blood-soaked bed, Roman having passed out on the wall, he felt a warm satisfaction in his chest. Is this what it felt like to be the victor? Is this how it feels to finally have things go your way,without a hitch?

_ If that's the case… I could get used to this! _

The green tint to the room, the shrieking and maniacal laughter from Thomas' dream monitor. The broken dresser and shattered glass and bloodstained walls. Even the crickets had stopped chirping outside, and thick clouds had blotted out the moon.

It was perfect.

They would see.


End file.
